


What you mean to me

by justonemoremiraclesherlock



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sick Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-18
Updated: 2012-12-18
Packaged: 2017-11-21 11:19:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/597126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justonemoremiraclesherlock/pseuds/justonemoremiraclesherlock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When John gets sick, Sherlock promises to nurse him back to health. But what happens when Sherlock gets a case from Lestrade and leaves John on his own? Will he be able to convince him how important he really is to him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	What you mean to me

**Author's Note:**

> Shameless fluffy sickfic, because it's my guilty pleasure. No regrets.  
> Sorry if it seems a bit ooc. This has been heavily edited since I posted it on ffn, so I hope it's a bit better now, at least.

"John, you're sick."

"Brilliant deduction."

"But you weren't sick yesterday."

"You're on fire today, aren't you?"

" _John_. What happened?" Sherlock stood up and cornered John against the counter, placing his hand on the doctor's forehead checking for a fever.

"What, you deleted yesterday already?" he asked in a slightly annoyed tone. "Let me remind you, then. _You_ told me to go to the park and spend the night searching for a bloody scarf, in the middle of a downpour, while you stayed at the lab analyzing the fingertips on the killer's knife; only to arrive home completely exhausted, worried about my stupid partner who didn't have the decency to answer his damn phone, and find out that the scarf was unnecessary since he had already apprehended the suspect thanks to the lab's results."

John grabbed his tea and moved past Sherlock, trying to keep his temper at bay. The detective froze for a moment, before following John into the living room.

"So this is my fault?" he asked staring down at John, who was sitting in his armchair with a miserable look in his face.

"Yes." John regretted his answer as soon as he saw Sherlock's guilty expression. "Listen Sherlock, it's fine. It's just a cold anyways."

"You have a headache, obviously caused by your fever. You're lightheaded too; you had to support yourself on the banister when you came downstairs. And not to mention your swollen eyes, your running nose and your harsh breathing. So tell me John, how is any of that an indicator of you being _fine_?"

"It's not a big deal, okay? It'll pass in a couple of days. Don't worry about it."

"Who said anything about being worried?" John could see that he was, though, if the concerned expression on his partner's face was anything to go by. Even if he didn't like seeing the Sherlock like this, a part of him was happy to see him showing how much he cared. They've been dating for a few weeks now, but the detective wasn't very keen on displays of affection, and had a hard time expressing his emotions.

Still, things had change, at least a bit: Sherlock actually went to bed at night, if only to keep John company. They both stayed on their sides of the bed, only their arms or legs touching, but John always found himself being smothered by Sherlock's long limbs by the time morning came. He usually pretended to be asleep, because Sherlock would let go of him as soon as he woke up (but not after a last reluctant squeeze, which John didn't took notice of until after the fourth time, making him smile for the rest of the day). The rest of their routine wasn't very different from their old one, actually. No wonder everyone called them a couple.

Oh, and they had sex. A lot of sex actually, which was a bit surprising considering the detective's vehemence about his body being only 'transport'.

John was a bit worried about that, sometimes. A voice at the back of his head kept telling him that maybe that was all it was, just a way for the detective to handle the boredom in between cases. But then; he'd remember Sherlock's soft and lazy kisses in the mornings, the way he sprawled all over the sofa on top of John and nuzzled his stomach asking to be petted, and the worried looks he sent him when he had taken an unnecessary risk; and would come to the conclusion that these were Sherlock's subtle ways of expressing affection. Or that's what he hoped, at least.

"Come here," said John, holding out his hand. Sherlock hesistated for a moment, but a second later he crawled up onto John's lap and nuzzled his neck, while John's hands found their way inside the detective's shirt, resting on his back. "I'm not fine, but I will be. I just need a couple of days, all right? I'll talk to Ms. Hudson to see if she can help, in case it gets worse, but I'll have to ask you to stop playing your violin until my headache gets better."

Sherlock stilled but instantly pulled back, a look of confusion on his face. "You will do no such thing. Why would you ask her, if you have me to help you? You just take care of resting and I'll deal with the rest."

"Oh. You want to..?"

"I want to what? Nurse you back to health? Yes, I do actually. It's my fault you are like this, John, and I'm perfectly capable of caring for another human being for a few days." Sherlock could see that John was happy by his offer, but there was a trace of doubt on his eyes. "What is it? You don't think I can do it?"

"It's not that. I know you're capable, it's just... If the fever gets higher or the dizziness continues, I won't be able to do things by myself. What if Lestrade calls with another case, or-?"

"I'll just tell him I have more important things to attend to." Sherlock leaned forward until his forehead rested against John's. "I said I would do it John, and I intend to keep my promise."

John smiled warmly at him. "Thank you," he whispered, kissing the detective's nose, and huffing at Sherlock's bemused expression.

* * *

Things went smoothly the next two days. Sherlock proved that he was more than capable of taking care of John, which was a nice surprise, specially considering that John hadn't been able to leave his bed except for going to the loo. And despite of his awful headache, the sneezes, and the coughing, John realized that he was _even happier_ than the day he started his relationship with Sherlock. Because if Sherlock doing all this for him wasn't proof that the detective really cared for him _that way_ ( _don't think about the L word, it's too soon to get your hopes up)_ , then nothing would.

Of course, John should have known it wouldn't last. He shouldn't be so surprised, really.

* * *

"Sherlock?" The flat was in complete silence. He tried to call for the detective again, louder this time, but his throat protested from the strain. He sighed and got up, but had to support himself on the bedside table to regain his balance. He grabbed his cell phone and was about to text Sherlock to ask him where he was, when he noticed he had an unread text message.

_"Sorry for calling him John, but the chief superintendent wanted to wrap this up as soon as possible. Not that it would matter to Sherlock; but he found the case pretty interesting, thankfully. Hope you're feeling better. GL."_

Sherlock had taken a case. Of course he did. And he didn't even bother to tell John, or at least leave him a note.

He swallowed the disappointment, ignoring the ache on the back of his throat ( _it's only because of the cold, nothing else_ ) and made his way into the kitchen, carefully. He had just filled a glass of water when another wave of dizziness assaulted him. He tried to hold onto the counter but failed, and ended up on the floor, unconscious.

* * *

Sherlock didn't remember John until the high of the case had worn off. He went back to the flat as fast as he could, hoping that John would still be asleep, chastening himself for his stupidity.

He entered through the kitchen door and stopped in his tracks as soon as he saw John lying on the floor. He felt his blood run cold as he practically threw himself over him to check if he was alright.

John's breathing was erratic and he had a very high temperature, making Sherlock even more worried than before. He picked him up and carried him to the bathroom, where he got rid of his jeans and jumper before putting him in the tub and filling it with water.

When his body returned to a more normal temperature, he took him to his bedroom, changed him in a pair of pajama pants and a plain shirt, and laid him on the bed. He climbed on beside him, cradling him to his chest, and stroked his hair while he drew out a long breath, trying to calm himself down.

* * *

John slowly regained consciousness as he became aware of his surroundings. His headache was gone and he was far more comfortable than he should have been, considering he had passed out on the kitchen floor.

"John? I know you're awake. How are you feeling?"

He abruptly opened his eyes and realized that he was in bed, Sherlock wrapped tightly around him. He weakly tried to get away, but the detective only pulled him closer to him.

"Sherlock-"

"I'm sorry," he said, guilt written all over his face. "I shouldn't have left. It's just... I got a text from Lestrade, and it sounded so interesting. I forgot."

"About me."

"Yes." Sherlock looked even more distraught than before. "I didn't mean to, John. I'm sorry."

"No reason to apologize," said John, avoiding his eyes. "I know where your priorities lay, I understand."

"What do you mean?"

"I know the work is more important than me. It's fine, Sherlock." He was startled by the detective taking hold of his chin, forcing him to make eye contact.

"That is not true. How could you think that?"

"Well, the fact that you left for a case, even though you had promised you wouldn't, kind of proves I'm right."

"I didn't mean to. I swear I wasn't thinking."

John huffed.

"Please Sherlock;. There isn't one second of the day when you're not using that big brain of yours. I don't blame you, though. I can't have sex in my condition, so it's not surprising that you have run off as soon as Lestrade called."

"You can't have-" Sherlock stopped, confused. "What are you saying John, that I have no use for you unless we're fucking?" He scoffed, incredulous, until he saw the look on John's face. "You do. You think that-"

"Please just drop it." John said, shaking Sherlock's hand of his chin and hiding his face on the pillows. He didn't care if he looked pathetic or if Sherlock mocked him. He was tired and mentally exhausted. He wasn't in condition to deal with Sherlock right now, telling him that _of course that's what we're doing John, what did you think?_ , calling him and idiot for thinking that he...

"I love you." John lost track of his thoughts and turned his head to look at the detective, shocked.

"What?"

Sherlock pulled John closer to him and cradled his face with his hand, caressing his cheekbone. He looked upset, and even a bit nervous.

"I love you. I know I never said it before, but... I thought you knew. I'm not good at dealing with emotions, and I know I'm not the most affectionate of people, but... I thought I was doing a good job at showing you that I cared. I was wrong, apparently."

"Sherlock-"

"No, John, let me finish." He let his forehead rest on John's and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "Even if I'm not very demonstrative, you have to know... that no matter what happens, you come first. You'll always come first. I'm not good with this, but you need to know how much- how much I love you. So please, remember that. All right?" He asked, opening his eyes and looking at John, almost desperate.

John had never seen Sherlock so emotional before. How could he ever forget how much the detective loved him after that speech? It had obviously been hard for him, too, which made John's chest tighten even further.

"I love you, too." He closed the few inches left between them, and kissed him softly, but detached his lips abruptly from Sherlock's, earning him a grunt in response.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm still sick, Sherlock."

"So?"

"So? I don't want to be the one taking care of you when you get sick. You're even more insufferable when you're forced to stay in bed and rest," John said, with a small smile.

Sherlock pouted, making John roll his eyes, giving him a small peck on the lips.

"Just save it for later. I'd rather have you stuck on this bed by my terms when I get better, than complaining about a cold."

"I'll take your word for it, John." He grinned and sneaked another kiss, before snuggling against John with a content smile.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> In regards of the slight ooc-ness, I just wanted to clarify that in John's behalf, it's mostly because of him being sick and all. Feel free to let me know if it's a bit too much, though :) (no excuses for Sherlock's behaviour. Again, sorry *sigh*)
> 
> Hope everyone liked this. Please, let me know if you see any mistakes, and constructive criticism is more than welcome, as always ~  
> Lots of love Xx
> 
> -
> 
> Edit: This fic has now been translated into Korean by SaltA ~  
> You can read it here: http://blog.naver.com/sm57leeee?Redirect=Log&logNo=60183619896  
> Thank you so much, dear x


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